Oozaru
by Bitchii-Usa
Summary: A birthright to be reclaimed. A pride to be honored. A nation to protect. A Black Panther inspired short story AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**Oozaru**_

 _ **Foreword:**_

 _ ***sighs* alright guys I'm going to put on my crown for least consistent fic writer because here I am again with something new. Thanks to the lovely ladies Vegetapsycho and Fleurlicorne over on Twitter (thanks guys) , I've got this itch to write a Black Panther inspired AU. This story will be a short ride, but a fun 'crack fic' none the less. And it is based off of the film and not the comics in the MU, with my own creative licenses as well. So sit back and I hope you enjoy the journey, cause it starts**_

 _ **Right**_

 _ **Now.**_

oooOOOooo

 _"Galactic Patrol Unit, over. This is Jaco, badge ID number 12557. Giving an update report on planet 12F in sector 7, over."_

Bulma's head, which before now has been lost in calibrating a hover pod control panel, pops up to glance at a screen-less radio to her right. The static taunts her as she waits for a reply from the operator Jaco is speaking to, her bright sapphire eyes bathing in the dark blue hue of her lab.

" _This is operator Alpha J7 over to Jaco, over. Galactic Patrol is ready to receive an update of your findings."_

Static again, and Bulma finds herself instinctively grabbing it, shaking it between her greased fingers as her teeth grit. "Spit it out, Jaco! This is what we've been waiting on!" She tries to calm her beating heart, but the longer Jaco takes in his reply, the more anxious she feels. He's probably just being dramatic as he always is, withholding information for the theatrics of it all. She's debating contacting him herself and forcing the information out of him, but he did supply her with this radio to stay in the galactic loop, after all. She can at least pay him with her patience.

" _It seems planet 12F, called Sadala by its inhabitants, reports that an old relic of theirs was taken. Some sort of ancient, I don't know, 'monkey' mask, as they described it? Didn't sound too important to me, but they were pretty shaken up about it. Destruction to their citadel was minimal, but a few casualties were reported from the explosion, over."_

" _Copy that. Approximately how many casualties as a result, over?"_

" _City records indicate about five hundred, over."_

"Five hundred?!" Bulma grabs her chest and nearly falls back into her seat. For a moment, her heart aches for all of those poor people that died a merciless death. Five hundred? That means that whoever these monsters are have managed to tally up seven hundred deaths across the galaxy in a week alone. It makes her sick to even properly digest it.

" _Okay that number is recorded for our records, over. Galactic patrol will send out a fleet to planet 12F, Sadala, for further investigations, over. Off the record, Jaco, I have to ask, what is it that you think they want? How many more casualties need to happen before they're satisfied?"_

Jaco goes quiet for a moment and Bulma catches her breath as she waits for a reply. She hopes he knows. Hopes he can offer some sort of insight into what the hell is wreaking havoc on the galaxy. As to what force is so impenetrable that not even _she_ can detect them. As far as she knows, only planet Vegeta has such luxuries as to being completely off the grid in terms of visibility. And that's because of her knowledge of science and her intelligence. There's no way, she hopes, that someone else can rival her wits. No possible way in hell.

" _I…I really don't know Alpha J7. I wish I did, I've been all over this damned galaxy trying to figure it out. This whole monkey mask business really throws me off. You would think if they were regular pirates, they'd just go after jewels and money or what have you, but what an odd relic to blow an entire city up for."_ He takes a deep sigh and Bulma can imagine him tensing over the controls of his ship, agonizing over this entire mess. She is too, after all. _"Whatever it is, I hope that we can put a stop to it before it gets really out of our control. Oh well, I'm off to the next incident, over. Jaco 12557 signing out."_

" _Roger that, Jaco."_

Bulma shuts the radio off and plops back down to her stool, sulking in the weight of the gruesome news. This…this is just one big galactic mess. Just two short weeks ago things had been fine, or as fine as normalcy allows anyways. Life was being lived the way her beloved king Bardock had wanted. What he had fought for. The Saiyans, the Earthlings, the Namekians, even races of aliens she had never heard of before, managed to coexist peacefully on planet Vegeta. The intermingling of cultures dominated by Bulma's highly intelligent brain helped to create a world that was supreme among the cosmos. It's a world she's proud to breathe life into , help sustain. And of course the pleasures of living on the richest planet help tie the bow on what she considers to be a perfect society.

But two weeks ago, she thinks with a heavy anchor in her chest, Bardock had died.

It was time, his oldest son Raditz had said. Bardock was old, even though he didn't look it. Practically pushing the old age of eighty four, much to her surprise. His death was a saddened, yet celebratory time for Planet Vegeta. Their champion, their king, the Great Oozaru had died, but another quickly rose up. One that perfectly intertwines the morality of Bardock's past with the promise of his people's future.

The doors to her laboratory open then, and as if being summoned, a tall, intricately muscular man walks in, his face troubled. She stares at him with a wide smile on her face, despite her tornado of a mood inside. He's wearing the suit, after all, the suit of his father and the kings before him. The proud symbol of the Great Oozaru, the ancient god of the Saiyan race. She's learned to adapt their profound belief in the ape god, seeing more than once the power its' possessor carries. The deep, earthy brown of the muscle hugging suit fits him well, makes him seem like a god.

"Bulma," his lips pout, "I need you to take a look at this suit please. I ripped it again."

"Again?!" She fires back, standing up in her seat to properly face him, "That's the third time this week, Kakarot! You really need to be careful in your training, I'm a scientist not a seamstress." Despite her scolding, she stretches out her hand anyway, prompting him to hand it over.

Kakarot flashes her a goofy grin as he shoves the hood into her hands, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. "I know, I know. Sorry Bulma, I'm just really trying to make sure that I stay at the top of my game, you know? My dad had some pretty big shoes to fill, and I need to make sure that I've earned the right to walk in them."

Earned the right? Of course he's earned the right. Kakarot fought fair and square against his older brother, Raditz, after Bardock passed. It was a tense battle, but Kakarot won. He took on Raditz's testosterone fueled challenge for king and quickly swept him under his feet. He'd more than deserved the throne; after all it is Kakarot who is second handedly responsible for uniting these races together. She had joined him on the long journey, but it is his purity and good nature that won over his allies and his people in the end . It's the only thing giving her peace right now, after all, knowing that in this chaos, she has him to call a king. A friend close enough to be her brother. And most importantly, he is their Great Oozaru and he will protect this galaxy from whatever evils are brewing.

He needs to know.

"Kakarot," she says grimly, setting the mask gently on the table and sighing. "Before you came in, I was listening to Jaco's report on the explosion on Planet Sadala."

Kakarot's face tightens then, the same way it always has when he knows it's time to be serious. Even his voice has gotten deeper as he says, "How bad is it, Bulma?"

She takes a deep breath and fights back the urge to cry. Not now. "There were five hundred casualties from the blast. Five hundred adults and children all slaughtered for some stupid monkey mask. It's deplorable and disgusting. And I don't think they're even close to being finished."

"F-five hundred?" Kakarot takes a step back like he's just been electrocuted and Bulma suspects that she looked the same when she'd heard the news. "This is unacceptable, Bulma. Absolutely unacceptable." His fists tighten at his side and she knows what that means. He's looking for justice for all of these deaths. And it's eating him up inside that he can't figure it out. "How long will it take me to reach Planet Sadala?"

"About a day or two, but there's no point. From what I've gathered, they took that stupid mask and hightailed it out of there. I don't know where they're going or what they want, but I'm afraid for what happens next, Kakarot."

He walks over to her and places a heavy hand on her shoulder, trying to swallow down his frown and give her a reassuring smile. "Don't be. My father protected our people and I swear to you I'll do the same. We'll find them. Either I will or Raditz will, but we'll find them."

"Raditz?" Bulma shoots him a questioning look. The last she'd seen of Raditz, he had tucked his tail between his legs and sulked off, pouting at the loss from his brother. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"He said he'd investigate what's going on. I know he's pretty grumpy about losing, so I thought he'd appreciate the fresh air. Plus it works out for both of us, because at least that means more eyes and ears out there. He took Nappa with him, so I think that'll help us even more."

"Awesome," Bulma's tone drips with sarcasm as she cuts her eyes at him, "A brute and an idiot going to protect galactic peace. I can't think of anyone better." Bulma hates Nappa. She tolerates Raditz, mainly because she grew up with him too and he wasn't always such a brooding asshole, but Nappa is too much like the old king Vegeta. Violent and impatient and loud and crude. She was happy when Bardock dethroned the tyrant, and she was even more happy when King Vegeta took his son and left the planet after his defeat. He left and took his ridiculous violent laws with him, but that didn't mean his ways were lost among his people. Especially when it came to Nappa. She can't imagine what chaos _those two_ were wreaking out there.

"Relax, Bulma, you worry too much. Nappa may be….old fashioned, but Raditz is there to keep him cool."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"I know what you mean but…Raditz just needs to find his own way. Get out from wanting this position so bad and contribute to our people in a different way. Getting off of this planet will be good for him, especially with dad dying like that. And if he just so happens to locate these guys in the meantime, then even better."

Bulma sighs and feels her resolve shrinking under the weight of his words. Leave it to Kakarot to be the voice of reason even when everything else says not to. He's better than her, she can admit. She would have exiled them both as soon as her butt warmed the seat of the throne. But that's why she leaves the politics to the Saiyans, and the sciences to the Briefs. The natural order of things, it seems. "I'll put my trust in you, Kakarot, but I sure hope you're right." She reaches up and squeezes his arm, physically transferring her trust through the layers of his suit down to the bronzed tan of his skin. He gives her a more genuine smile this time, one that he's given her practically her entire life.

"That's my girl. We'll be okay. Thanks to you revitalizing the Dragon Balls for energy instead of wishes, we can at least manage to stay in hiding until we figure something out. Being invisible sure has its perks, doesn't it?"

She supposes he's right about that. She looks behind them to the glass infrastructure in the back of the lab, housing 7 large glowing orbs connected by millions of tiny wires. The wires expand throughout the glass casing and upwards to the throne room, leading out into the main 'heartbeat' of the city. The Dragon Balls were rumored to grant wishes like some sort of genie, and while Bulma personally discovered that to be true, she also realized that their internalized power acted like an intense solar energy. After years of trial and error researches, she managed to revitalize them so that they continuously gave it off, making Planet Vegeta a planet of literal overpowering energy. It's as revolutionary as it is dangerous, so Bulma and her father worked out a way to make Planet Vegeta virtually unnoticeable by any map or scouted. Can't risk it falling into the wrong hands. It gives her some sort of comfort, but her heart can't help but sink as she thinks about the other planets who don't have the same luxury.

The doors to her lab burst open, practically swinging from the hinges. The abrupt sound causes her and Kakarot to whip their heads over at the new occupant, a short Saiyan with spiky hair. He's out of breath and his eyes are wild, and Bulma leaps out of her seat at his frenzied appearance.

"Cabba," she says calmly, fearing the worst news to spill from his thin lips, "What is it?"

"King Kakarot, Ms. Bulma," Cabba's pupils are unsettled as they dart back and forth between them, sweat just beginning to brew around his brow. "We have a problem. We have a _really_ huge problem."

oooOOOooo

No one could've prepared him for this. No one could have possibly told him it would feel this. Fucking. _Good._

The large hover craft kisses the ground gently as it makes the final landing. He sits back in the recliner of his seat, waiting patiently to hear the three _dings!_ for permission to disengage the locks on the door. Each ticking second as the ship regulates gravity levels is like a massaging ego boost for him. A defined, plump upper lip curls over a sharpened canine, two grooves at the ends of his mouth rising high to meet his cheeks. How long? How long has it been that he's waited and planned and _savored_ for this moment? It almost isn't fair, the way the cards have aligned themselves in his favor. All this waiting meant strength, meant growth, meant preparation. It meant blood and pain, hell and serenity all weaving themselves into the thread of his pride. Of his purpose. Of his people.

And all leading up to this moment. Such a fucking delicious moment.

The ship finally announces its safety, and he wastes no time in unfastening his seatbelt and smashing buttons to open the damned thing. The early sunlight peaks through the darkness of the ship slowly, and he covers his eyes to avoid the burn of its intense rays. He steps out onto the coppery red sands that squish welcomingly under his boots. Just as he remembers, the color of blood stretches far and wide on the grounds across the seemingly vacant planet. But he knows better.

He raises his wrist to his mouth, quickly flipping the top of a thick silver watch that seems almost too technical for an average person to adorn themselves with. As the lid flips back, he tries to stifle the laughter that swims through his broad chest, but is unable to do so. He can't even talk properly into the thing because his laugh is threatening to burst through his body.

"Good job, you two!" A deep voice that carries a smooth undertone to it, despite the crazed laughter, echoes through the crisp peachy winds like music. He throws his head back and hollers this time, letting out a savagery laugh that makes the sands under his feet quake. "I finally fucking did it!"

"Glad to be of service." A voice rasps back through the watch, a hint of pride sprinkled on top of the words. "It's about time we stopped this foolish peaceful shit. That isn't the core of our people at all."

"Precisely," Another huskier voice promptly follows, a sly chuckle lacing under his tone. "Say what you will about me, but I know what's best. And you're what's best for all of us."

Of course he fucking is. He scans the area meticulously, searching for the specific location. To any average eye, it just appears as a barren wasteland. Like a forgotten planet in the middle of nowhere that could easily be mistaken for Mars. A simplistic fool would step one foot on this planet and convince himself that there's nothing here to be had. But his eye is far from average and he is no fool.

It clicks then, his eyes landing on what he considers to be the exact coordinates. He repeats them into the watch, asking for validation from the two persons on the other end. With their confirmations, one foot begins to lead the other as he makes his way to that specific spot.

It's certainly hot here, far more hot than he remembers. The only sort of protection he gets from the sun is his hair, shooting out from his scalp in an upwards curve like a flame. He's been to many planets now, experienced many climates, but none reign hotter than this one's. It's fitting though. There's something complimentary about hell and blood. Something complimentary, indeed.

A brass ring hangs from a thick chain that swings from his neck as he walks, beginning to slick with the sweat from his skin. Instinctively he reaches up and grabs it, rubbing it against his fingers as the scenery around him distinctly changes. The smile on his face stretches farther as the sands begin to stretch into perfectly aligned cement tiles, and soon the clacking of his boots has replaces the soft singing of the wind. "Well it appears everything has gotten a _major_ upgrade the last time I was here, huh?"

"There's a woman responsible for that," the huskier voice responds, "I doubt you'd even remember her. She was younger than you, but she's smart as hell. Good looking too, if I might add."

"What does she have to do with anything?" He impatiently barks, no interest in additional, opinionated commentary. Multicolored flowers begin to sprout at his side, a garden to the soft lulls of a waterfall that seems miles away. It's amazing, he thinks, how this planet is a utopia of beauty instead of the deserted wasteland it appears to be.

"Well, she literally created the power source of everything you see. The fact that it isn't even noticeable upon first glance is all because of her energy supply. The planet's one gigantic battery."

"Interesting." He makes a mental note to find out more about this woman and her quizzical mind. He can definitely utilize an intelligence like hers, and she would definitely feel honored to work for him. She has no choice, anyways. Not if she plans on living.

The intricately paved roads lead into a much deeper part of the city. Past more houses and villagers than he can remember, and it makes him absolutely sick. They're not even all Saiyans; some of them look like the dinner of his ancestors. They're all talking and mingling with one another, not even bothering to notice his presence. Fools, the lot of them, proving his point about why any other race is inferior to the Saiyans.

His father is probably rolling over in hell, right now.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he snarls into his watch, "Namekians, Earthlings _living_ here? And you _allowed_ it!?"

"Wasn't our call, not with Bardock having the say so. But that fucker's dead, finally." The raspy voice speaks, but the huskier voice remains quiet, as if he's not listening to the conversation at all. After a while he chimes in, briskly blurting out, "Are you near the royal grounds?"

He laughs, feeling an immeasurable surge of pleasure course through his veins. The familiar long waterfall, the biggest he'd ever laid his eyes on, sits in front of him. The same stone staircase circles around it to the very top, all the way up the birthright of his father. And the birthright he will reclaim. No matter how he'll go about getting it.

He climbs the stairs patiently, relishing in the beads of water that sprinkle down on him. Each footstep is a chorus of his arrival, a celebration of his name. He chuckles again, soft and low against the beating of water initially until he stretches it out, his voice bellowing like noted from a trumpet. He's a madman; a psychotic looney who is so overwhelmed with power and promise that he feels like he's going to explode. "What's my name!?" He screams into his watch, not stopping his laughter to give a reply before repeating, "What is the proper way to address me!?"

The voices on the other side chuckle in a delightful evil, egging on his pride. "Prince Vegeta," they say almost simultaneously.

"Wrong." Vegeta says, taking one last step up the staircase to the top of the rocky mountain. Just as he's suspected, there's an army of Saiyans and other races alike, their weapons and bodies ready for combat. All of this for him? What a delight. What an honor.

What a homecoming.

"I'm _King_ Vegeta," he says into the watch one last time before staring out into the front of the army lines. Their faces. So angry. So resilient. So territorial and blood thirsty.

It's a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.

Out of seemingly nowhere, he reaches behind him and withdraws a light brown, furry mask, in the likeness of an oversized ape head. He clenches it in his hand and crosses his arm over his chest in a proud salute, an arrogant gleam glossing over his eyes.

"And I'm finally fucking home."

oooOOOooo

 _ **A/N:**_

 _ **I really hope you guys enjoy this, because I'm having more fun than I thought. Please leave a review if you do, because of course I'd love to hear what you think. I based this Vegeta Killmonger off of Vegetapsycho's incredibly amazing drawing, which is getting the recognition it totally deserves. Give it a look over at her Tumblr, Twitter, or show some real love by donating to her or buying some really cool art merch from her Redbubble store.**_

 _ **Till next time guys!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Oozaru: The Second Installment**_

oooOOOooo

There's a sense of urgency in Cabba's and Kakarot's footsteps that makes Bulma's stomach plummet to her feet.

She saw that same urgency in the shorter Saiyan's eyes as he barely explained what this 'problem' is. He even begins speaking to Kakarot in the native Saiyan tongue, as if Bulma hasn't deciphered the language ages ago. Never the less, she listens in to their hurried conversation as they march through the midnight colored corridor, trying to keep her feet as fast paced as her brain.

"He refuses to say who he is unless he speaks to you directly, my King." Cabba's translated words say, "No matter how often we tell him a meeting with you isn't something we just _allow_. I don't…I don't think it's safe for you to meet him. There's something dangerous in his eyes that I haven't seen in a long time." Cabba sounds sad when he says this, as if a memory is turning over in his head. Bulma is unsure as to what he could be thinking, but it only makes her more interested into what the hell is going on.

Kakarot is moving briskly, but his face is lost in thought, his chin resting between his thumb and forefinger. He appears to absorb himself under the blanket of Cabba's thick accent, his brows squished together on top of a troubled expression. Finally, after only the clicks of their boots occupying the silence, he lifts his head and speaks, his shoulders more confidently pushed back. "It is my duty as King," he says in a tone that mimics his father. Even though the translation requires many words, it is actually a simple Saiyan phrase, one that is so powerful is straightens Cabba's spine.

 _R'Shaorkah._

Bulma knows that when the Great Oozaru speaks this royal phrase, his word is law and infinite. So Cabba tries no longer to intervene in his king's decision, but it doesn't go unnoticed that the grip around his spear has tightened and his mouth has become a frigid line. Nor does it go unnoticed that despite the heavy silence around them, the air is thick with foreboding questions.

Cabba is worried, Kakarot is pretending not to be worried and that really worries Bulma.

The corridor finally greets the sun and red sands of Vegeta, and Bulma nearly has a heart attack at the scene that awaits them. The small gruff that escapes Kakarot's chest shows that he, too, isn't prepared for whatever confrontation this is.

The entire royal army, consisting of Saiyans, Namekians and Earthlings alike are huddled around one civilian with their weapons drawn. One very intimidating looking civilian with a thirst for mischief in his eyes, just as Cabba's said. It makes Bulma's heart take several leaps backwards through her chest, and she finds herself leaning against Cabba's shoulder for balance. She can't remember the last time she's seen the army all together like this, outside of training purposes on the battle grounds. But this isn't a drill and they aren't practicing. Even the strongest three of the army fleet are present, and the rarity confirms how serious this situation is.

"What does he want?" She asks aloud, her tone desperate for a resolution. It is only then that her eyes flash to the center of this man's chest, and a piercing gasp curls over her lips. The mask….the monkey mask that hundreds had to die for on Sadala is draped over him like a decorating medal.

"I see," Kakarot replies to her, nodding in the direction of the mask, "So he came to us instead of the other way around. I suppose this makes things a little easier." A little easier? The man that may or may not be solely responsible for a galactic genocide is here when…when he shouldn't be. He…he shouldn't have found them. This planet ….this planet should look like rocks and craters to him; he should essentially be in a parallel plane to their reality. All of these observations drown her and increase the paranoia racing through her brain. What is even happening? Are they all going to die? Who is this man and why is he—

"My King." The mighty three, as Bulma calls them, of the royal army gather in front of Kakarot, bent at the knee. Three powerful Saiyan women who have proven over and over again that they can best any Saiyan man, including Raditz and excluding Kakarot, look more angry than Bulma has ever seen them. "This man requests an audience with you. We tell him that is not possible and he refuses to answer our questions."

"Thank you for the report, Fasha. Cabba has already told me of his motives." Kakarot takes a deep breath, and Bulma notices his eyes squint at the man with a distant familiarity, as if the wheels in his brain are turning on their own.

"Can't we just kill him, my King?" Caulifla, a feisty shorter woman, no bigger in mass or height than Cabba himself, is incredibly blood thirsty on the battlefield. That same fire has intensified in her eyes and Bulma knows that it won't be sated until this intruder is properly dealt with. "He shouldn't be here, and if he won't talk then perhaps his blood will give us answers."

"That isn't necessary, Caulifla," Kakarot shakes his head in strong disagreement, "If he wants to talk, then perhaps that is the least I can do."

"But—"

Kakarot steps aside them then, his mind clearly made up about his next course of action. Bulma can't help but to watch him go with a sense of regret, as if she knows that he's about to make the biggest mistake in his reign so far. All five of them watch after his footsteps with hardened faces, wanting more of the situation than reality will allow.

"Just like his father," Fasha speaks, a slight admiration in her stern words, "Despite how close we were, he never listened to reason either. Especially not when his heart is involved." She chuckles deeply, and the soothing richness of her voice coddles Bulma's frenzied nerves. "He is Bardock's boy through and through. If anything, that gives me hope that this will resolve itself."

"I hope so," Bulma whispers, meaning it more than anything else she's ever spoken.

That fragile shard of hope she has is cracked by the third charge, an impossibly strong but mild mannered Saiyan woman named Kale. Her voice, as passing as the wind itself, suddenly holds more gusto to it than ever before and threatens to break Bulma's stance completely.

"I want to believe that. I really do. But that man…that man is the spitting image of King Vegeta himself." She turns to Bulma and looks at her with worried eyes. "I think that's the prince."

oooOOOooo

It isn't answers that Kakarot is searching for. Not primarily, at least.

It's this stranger's face. There's something very…distant about it, as if the sharp cuts in his cheekbones or the thick hairs of his eyebrows will unplug a memory that's clogged in his brain. It keeps him moving, step by step, click after click of his boot on the smoothened rock. Where…where has he seen this man before?

The army cuts like a warm knife through butter as he makes his way toward the center of the royal grounds, right atop the crimson red crest of their people. The air is silent, although the gleam in the man's eyes is louder than any words that they could speak. It's a tense situation, Kakarot knows, with his army ready to annihilate the man without so much as a proper command. The man doesn't seem like he'd go down without a fight, especially if he _is_ the culprit leaving behind a cosmic trail of blood from one edge of the galaxy to the other.

He clears his throat, hoping to ease some of the volcanic pressure among them. "Friend," his voice echoes through the soft winds, bellowing beneath their feet. "I am not sure how you found us or what you want, but I believe it may be best if you told us who you are." Kakarot bows at custom, an important first impression lesson his father instilled in him. "As you have requested, I am King Kakarot, the Great Oozaru."

The man stares at him with a stale expression, the dark matter of his eyes swallowing Kakarot whole. It mildly irritates him, the utter disrespect of this intruder. He hears several whispers among the members of his army, noting how rude this man is and how the price should be his death. Kakarot silences the threat with a wave of his hand, and now the grounds are silent again.

Until the stranger coughs up a ridiculous laugh, accompanied by a theatrical show of hand clapping.

Kakarot's 'mild' irritation is rapidly growing.

"Clearly you mock me, friend," he begins to say, remembering his place as King instead of a warrior, "I do not understand-"

"No it is _you_ who mocks ME!" For the first time the stranger speaks, his voice as loud and uninviting as his intimidating mood. His thick, gloved finger is pointed accusingly towards Kakarot, his lips barely containing a scowl. The man speaks and Kakarot feels like he's being shown a film of his past, of two young Saiyan boys wrestling about for fun and jollies. " _King_ Kakarot, _bowing_ and being _friendly_. Makes me absolutely _sick_. Are you a Saiyan or a pussy?!" With as much disrespect as the man can muster, he spits in the direction of Kakarot's feet, barely missing the tip of his boot.

Kakarot isn't feeling mild about anything anymore.

Overstepping the man's wasted saliva, he moves in a little tighter to him, his army backing up closely behind him. "I don't know who you are, but only a fool spits at the feet of a king. You don't know your place."

"My _place?_ " The man's features distort into something more sinister, as if Kakarot has crossed some imaginary line that only the stranger can see. "If I were to truly stay in my place, half of these inferiors would be dead in an instant. Is it truly wise to ask that of me, Kakarot?"

"You will address him as King!" Fasha roars from behind them, and Kakarot doesn't need to sense her ki to know that the mighty three, as Bulma calls them, have joined this 'party'. Kakarot doesn't silence her this time, feeling fed up at whatever game this is, but he doesn't entertain the disrespect, either.

"Tell me your name, _friend,_ " he mutters in a deep voice, the sharp roar of the Oozaru strengthening his words. He can feel his army tensing up behind him as he tries to control the beast that threatens to erupt from his skin. "I can't promise you that I can sustain my true powers or my army much longer. Let us try to hash this out as men and not resort to _that_ , shall we?"

"You make me _sick,_ you bastard." The stranger snarls so wildly that saliva pools around the corners of his mouth, making him look crazy and deranged. But beneath all of that, Kakarot sees something else. Something that he can't quite put his finger on. "You in no way deserve to be called King, much less a Saiyan. You have this…this _mockery_ of a royal army defending the Saiyan _kingdom_? I, an obvious threat, have not only breached your walls but I _disrespect you to your face_ , and here I stand unscathed. My father would have had my head before I made it past the first rock."

 _My father_? What does this man mean? On the way down, Kakarot distantly heard Kale mention something about his resemblance to the old King, the King that was overthrown by Bardock. But there is no way….there's absolutely no way…they both….rumored to be dead….

"Who are you?" Kakarot loses his elite tone and asks him flat out, expecting an answer the same way one would in a late night pub with too many drinks consumed.

This question seems to crack the hardened plastic stare that the man has, a sly smile stealing his lips. It unnerves Kakarot, as if he's going to get more than he's bargained for with this reply.

"Well," the man says with such a cool calmness that it takes the circumstances from tense to dire in a heartbeat, "It seems like I'm not the only doppelgänger of my father. You are a spitting image of that fool Bardock, if memory serves me correctly."

…Kale couldn't possibly be…

The man places the mask he carries directly in the center of the ground, directly in the middle of the Saiyan crest. He stands back up again, the crisp sounds of the wind providing his soundtrack, and tightens two fists across his chest, his head thrown backwards towards the sky. He lets out a piercing wail, one that is both thunder and lightning, into the azure heavens. No way….that yell…an old ancient yell that his father denounced when he took the throne. Said it was too primitive, too dangerous. Completely the opposite of the direction that he wanted planet Vegeta to go in. Aside from Raditz and Nappa, Kakarot is the only living Saiyan that knows how to _correctly_ do this shout. And judging from the sudden reluctant nature of his army, this man has indeed done it perfectly.

But the only way that he could do it so correctly would be….would mean…

Kakarot pulls his lower lip down, the glowing red Saiyan crest etched on the inside of his pink skin. A symbol of the children born of planet Sadala, only to be rebirthed in the sands of Vegeta. It is a Saiyan birthmark, one that Kakarot silently demands this stranger shows. The man, just having finished his triumphant Oozaru groan, slowly draws his head down until they are at the same eye level, as if they are on the same tier. There's a mocking smile that sleeps under his inked black irises, one that makes Kakarot's blood run cold. With calculated movements, he slowly brings his own hand to his lips before spreading them, and Kakarot is nearly blinded by what he sees.

The same crimson crest glows brightly back at him, eliciting several gasps from the army and himself.

The man closes his lips and doesn't try to hide the face splitting grin that has surfaced on his face. "What's the matter, Kakarot? Is it all coming back to you now?"

Kakarot feels dizzy, as if this is some terrible night terror that Bulma accuses him of having from time to time. There's only one…only one person that this monster can possibly _be_ …

"You were supposed to be dead." He whispers, his eyes as distant as the memories that flood his mind. "My father… he said….you and King Vegeta were….your space craft met with a meteor…."

"Is _that_ what your father said? The _great_ King Bardock? The revolutionary Oozaru?! Do you think that is how the mighty King Vegeta or his prodigal son would meet their _demise!?_ " The man, who Kakarot now knows is the former Prince Vegeta, now looks to be…hurt. Angry and hurt and accusing Kakarot of things that he doesn't understand. "I can't say the same thing for my father, but I am _very_ much alive. So when you see your father in hell, tell him that he _failed._ "

Failed? Failed…what, exactly? Vegeta speaks in riddles, speaks as if Kakarot has some knowledge of his father's actions back then. He had been just a boy during that time, just shy of nine. In almost twenty years he hasn't had to think of what his father had done, or who he had done it to. All Kakarot knows is that in a blink of an eye, Planet Vegeta was the opposite of its former self. That aside from Bulma, his only childhood friend at the time, the Saiyan prince himself, was gone. At first from the planet, and then from existence. To have him here so very real and so very alive is….he doesn't even know how to express it. "As a Saiyan, this planet's true city is destined to show itself to you. Only a Saiyan born from its red sands has the ability to truly see, that's how Bulma and her father designed it. But still….only a citizen of Vegeta can tell you exactly how to find it, which specific way to walk to even get here. Who did that for you?"

Vegeta reaches up and grabs a chain around his neck, a thick ring hanging from it. Kakarot remembers that ring. It's the same one that King Vegeta wore, the same one passed down to him from generation to generation. The same one Bardock said he hoped froze in the vacuum of space. "No need for spoilers, Kakarot. I like to savor my desert after the entré."

"What happened to you, Vegeta? You may have been your father's son, but you did not agree with his laws. You…talked with me about wanting peace. You…you said that you agreed-"

"You are a bigger fool than I thought if you hold onto the words of a babe. Clearly I am not the same naïve sap that kept the likes of _you_ around for company. Especially not after what _your_ blood did to _mine_." He jabs a thumb a little too roughly in the meat of his chest, his eyes wildly scanning over Kakarot's face. "And to add insult to injury, you _hide_ this planet away from any galactic map? You make this… this _haven_ of solitude completely invisible? A Saiyan runs to his enemies, not away from them, and you and this pathetic population sit comfortably behind a cocoon of lies? You don't deserve the throne. You don't deserve to call yourself the Great Oozaru."

Kakarot doesn't know what to say. He feels whatever he says will egg on the anger that this man so proudly portrays. How is this the same Vegeta? The same boy with enormous powers that, yes, Kakarot can admit, would have made a wonderful King. Kakarot is still learning the politics, the ins and outs of Saiyan culture that he'd rather put towards fighting and training. In a perfect world, he'd head the army and Vegeta would give sound reason from the throne. But…but this isn't a perfect world. And Vegeta isn't the same person he used to be. Leagues away from it.

"Vegeta, whatever you've come here for. Whatever reason that you've gone across the galaxy and killed hundreds for…..it won't happen. I ask you- no, I _implore_ you- to leave here peacefully. Leave the mask so that it can be returned rightfully to Sadala, and swear that you will not cause any havoc on our great galaxy again. As your King, I command it."

"Or _what_?" Vegeta steps closer, the tip of his boot crushing against Kakarot's. The army encompassing them huddles tighter together, their weapons pointed directly at Vegeta. Even though he's way shorter than the King, his personality more than makes up for it. "Will you _kill_ me, Kakarot? Finish out what your father started, huh? Well I _really_ hate to break it to you, but my father was _weak_. Killing me, as you'll discover, will only be a suicide mission."

Kakarot's teeth moan in agony as he grits them, finding it harder and harder to keep the Oozaru at bay. He looks down to Vegeta, at the sharp point that his hair gathers up to, at the angled cut of his darkly rimmed eyes. His armor, clearly crafted by someone like Bulma, is a solid metal that shines blue, one that makes him seem invincible. But Kakarot refuses to buckle.

"I don't know what my father did to you, Vegeta, but I can't answer for that. I'll give you one more chance to leave peacefully. After that, I can't tell my army how to handle a threat. That's what I'll have to treat you like, I hope you realize that."

Vegeta chuckles and crosses his bulging arms over his chest, stepping closer to Kakarot as if that were possible. His even breaths fall against Kakarot's chest, his eyes determined and unwavering. "The only person leaving here is _you_ , Kakarot." Vegeta steps back slightly, just enough to gather the full attention of everyone on the royal grounds. Once he's satisfied, he smiles and says, "I came here for the throne. I am the rightful ruler, and I even managed to travel to our mother planet Sadala for the ancient Oozaru mask. One that my father and all of the _true_ Saiyan kings wore in their lifetimes. You can either hand it to me, or die trying to protect it, but the throne is _mine_."

"You _killed_ for that mask."

Vegeta shrugs, clearly unremorseful to Kakarot's accusation. "The Saiyan way isn't _asking_ , it's taking. Do well and remember that, _boy._ "

Kakarot is barely able to keep his anger stifled. Vegeta….Vegeta is really pulling a nerve. Kakarot fought hard for this throne, promised his father on his deathbed that he would carry on his honor with pride. There was no way that he would ever hand it over to Vegeta.

Besides…

"I realize it's been two decades since you've been home, Vegeta, but the customs are still somewhat intact. You can't challenge for the throne unless you have two Saiyans willing to vouch for your ascension. I had the pleasure of Fasha and Cabba willing to back me up, but I don't think any other Saiyans will do the same for you." Kakarot is confirmed by the collective agreements of the Saiyans present, their loyalty to their King cemented.

Vegeta laughs at them all, making sure he makes direct eye contact with everyone in attendance. "It's interesting that you think that could stop me, but for the sake of entertainment, I suppose I'll play along. Two Saiyans, was it?" He lifts his arm to his chin, his eyes still locked into the umber irises of the king. He flips the lid open and promptly speaks into it. "You two can show yourselves now. It's time."

The eyebrow that raises on Kakarot's face is only a small display of his confusion. He looks around to his army, glancing quickly at every Saiyan man and woman present. They shrug their shoulders, completely unaware as to what Vegeta is talking about. He's about to turn back around and call Vegeta on his bluff when the ground quakes underneath them and two oversized men land on either side of Vegeta, having jumped from the peak of the throne room's rockly cliff.

Two oversized men that Kakarot knows _very_ well.

He…no….how could they….? Kakarot is _livid._ His eyes burn with fiery accusations of betrayal as he looks towards the three men in front of them, none of them seeming to be apologetic. He can't even find the words to properly express his anger. He can barely say their names. Thanks to Caulifla, luckily he doesn't have to.

"What the hell is this!?" She screeches from behind him, her ki becoming unshaky with rage. "You two _dare_ turn your backs on our King?! On our people!?"

"Psssh, he aint no king of mine," the taller, bald man says, his muscles so large they threaten to pop like a balloon. "The only king I respected was the father of this guy, and he's no longer with us. Vegeta here is the only king I will honor."

"As you should, Nappa," Vegeta responds, appearing to be too entertained by the recent turn of events.

Kakarot wants to kill Nappa, wants to hang his traitorous face from a spike. But…but Nappa isn't what is doing him in. His red rimmed eyes are growing hotter as he stares at the long, spiky haired man to Vegeta's left. He can't even look at Kakarot in the eye, the coward.

"Raditz," Kakarot's voice is dry and tight, but he can't let his brother's betrayal go so easily, "You….you defy _me_? Our father?"

"Oh cut the sentimental bullshit, Kakarot," Raditz says, but he still refuses to look his brother in the eye, "Our father was a fool. Wanting Saiyans to live in peace? Pah. He wanted to go against everything we naturally stand for. We killed the ancestors of the people you call friends, the people you dine with at the royal table. I won't stand by for another twenty years and watch this blasphemy." Raditz looks down to Vegeta, who's still got that stupid grin on his face. "Vegeta is what we need, Kakarot. The Saiyans…the Great Oozaru. They don't belong to you anymore, brother."

"He is _not_ your brother!" Kakarot is surprised to hear Bulma shouting too. Does she know that Raditz can break her with his thumb? "A brother would never turn on his own, Raditz! What the hell is wrong with you!? I ought to come down there and punch you myself, you simplistic son of a bitch!"

"Is that her?" He hears Vegeta whisper to Raditz, followed by his brother's head nod of a confirmation. "Good, I see you were right. She will be interesting."

Vegeta has officially crossed the line, speaking about Bulma like that. Kakarot….Kakarot would kill for her. At times, she has been more of a sibling to him then Raditz himself. Especially now. Everyone on Planet Vegeta knows of her sentiment to him. It's time Vegeta learns too.

"You will leave Bulma alone," he threatens, feeling the pull of the Oozaru clawing at his scalp now. He's not going to fight it much more. Not after Raditz, not after the comment about Bulma, and certainly not with so much at stake. "Fine. You want to throw your life away by fighting me? You think you can take the throne away from me and cast my brother against me?" He crouches down in his familiar stance, feeling the electric heat of the Oozaru taking hold of his skin. His suit, designed by the brilliant mind of Bulma herself, takes notice of his rising body heat and encompasses him in a more fitted design, molding against his muscles until it becomes a second layer of skin itself. Kakarot snarls, the whites of his eyes deepening to a bloody red. No, he thinks, he doesn't need the transformation for this. But he can at least tap into some of its power.

With his brain settling itself out, changing into his calculated battle mind, he looks Vegeta directly into the eyes and says:

"I accept your challenge."

oooOOOooo

The last time Vegeta remembers being this high up on the waterfall, he was about eight years old.

A year before his father would wake him up from his sleep and, in not so many words, tell him they were leaving Planet Vegeta for good. That they would find a new home and raise stronger, smarter Saiyans. He remembers that even though he went without a word of contest, he really didn't want to go. Remembers that…that he wanted to stay. Stay and grow up with his Saiyans. Stay and see the new world Bardock would make. Stay and fight with Kakarot, only to eat supper with him in the secret passageway in the back of the throne room. But according to his father, a prince did not throw tantrums, always acted a man, never a child. So he had fled with his father and written Planet Vegeta in his book of future places to go. To go back to.

Those were bad days.

But….but before then. About a year before then, when his father still sat on the throne, he had brought Vegeta up here. Told him to look at everything below them, everything that he would inherit as king someday. He told them the history of their people. Of his own father and the fathers before him. Told him that Vegeta would carry on the same pride as their people, that he was next to be the Great Oozaru. Told him that the Great Oozaru was a gift from the Saiyan God himself, that it was meant to always protect their people. Always be the strongest. Always be the most feared and always be the conqueror.

He's willing to bet Bardock erased that part from any history books since then.

He circles Kakarot slowly, taking in the taller Saiyan King with repulsion. How _dare_ the son of a true traitor be the voice and face of their people? Kakarot…he was supposed to be _different._ He was supposed to be the light that Vegeta used to see. Someone who…Vegeta could call a friend.

Now the only thing he thinks Kakarot is supposed to be is a forgotten monkey.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Vegeta," he speaks and Vegeta wants to kill him already. Patronizing him as if he ever gave a damn about him. He wrote him off as being dead, listening to dear daddy's words, without even bothering to go out into the cosmos himself to check. From what Vegeta has heard, Kakarot is notorious for venturing out into the universe. "I don't want to kill you, but something tells me you don't want a fair fight."

"As if I'd give you the mercy. This is more than just a throne, you ape. This is _vengeance_." The word leaves his hot tongue with a cool tenacity and he relishes in it. All these years….all these years and he finally is going to get what he's looking for. "And the only thing that will make it all go away is to know that your blood is on my hands."

"Why do you hate me so much, Vegeta? What the hell did I ever do to you?" 

"Ask your _daddy_ , but I suppose you'd need a medium for that."

Kakarot snarls and it's beautiful. Seeing him riled up like that makes this moment all the more real for Vegeta. He's not going to waste this moment by playing a tit for tat of words, he's a man ready for action.

He takes the opening that Kakarot has in still sizing him up and lunges for him, the splashing of water from his feet lightly slapping him in the face. Kakarot lets out an 'oomph!' at Vegeta's lean but stocky build, but manages to keep on his feet, something Vegeta will give him credit for. Behind him, the crowd is jeering, clearly upset with his methods of getting this over with.

They can fuck off.

Kakarot manages to push Vegeta off of him, closing the distance between them with a few short strides. He's good, his footsteps are quick and light, giving him just enough time to get from one foot to the other without risk of tripping. But Vegeta is an expert at fast and precise movement and Kakarot is nowhere near as experienced.

Vegeta dodges his fist before it can make impact, although he can feel the power behind the punch skim just past his cheeks. Had it landed, it would've definitely hurt. The power of the Great Oozaru runs through his veins, indeed. He rewards Kakarot's attempt with a punch of his own, curled upwards and impacting the man's abdomen. His skin is solid but not forgiving when Vegeta's heavy fist knocks him back, causing him to stumble to regain himself. Judging from the slight bend at Kakarot's torso, that punch was damaging.

"Hmm," Vegeta shakes his fist for theatrics, giving Kakarot an approving smile, "Not bad. I put my all into that punch and you still manage to stand. You are a king, aren't you?"

Kakarot doesn't look the least bit amused, which only makes Vegeta smile harder. Kakarot lunges at him again and Vegeta isn't all the way ready for it, so it makes him trip over his feet. Luckily for him, his father taught him to counteract a tumble, so he uses as a chance to flip backwards, catching Kakarot's chin with his feet.

He's happy to see the man landed on his back when he's standing right side up again.

"Get up, Kakarot!" The woman yells, the one whose intelligence is admirable. For a split second, he takes his eyes off the fight to look at her, seeing her crystal eyes determinedly looking at Kakarot. She catches him staring and glares at him, her irises bluer than any flame he's encountered. She's got a lot of spunk to be looking at him like that. Perhaps, for her sake, he would put on a show.

He turns back to Kakarot, who has heard her cries and is standing up, and slowly walks over to him. His chin is covered with the man's blood that spills from his mouth, and he's wiping it with the back of his hand. "Red looks good on you, Kakarot. You should wear more of it."

Kakarot smiles finally, a distinct feature on an otherwise stormy face, and spits a wad of bloody phlegm in the waters. "If you like it so much, how about you sport some yourself?" Kakarot is faster this time, gaining speed on Vegeta and punching him squarely in the gut. Vegeta is unable to catch himself now, and as he's lunged over, Kakarot slams his elbow into his back, making him land on his stomach, clenching from the pain.

"Call this off now, Vegeta. Neither of us need to die. We can work out some sort of arrangement."

"Oi, get the hell up Vegeta!" Nappa calls, his voice sounding like drums in Vegeta's ears. "None of this is worth it if you lose to that scumbag!"

"No! Stay down! Get him Kakarot!"

"Forget what your father said, kill him!"

"Get the hell up Vegeta!"

"Stop rooting for him you traitor!"

He's going mad.

Abso

Lutely

Mad.

"SILENCE!" The drums haven't stopped banging in his head and he realizes it's his heart beat, pumping the rage through his veins. Kakarot really hurt him with that attack, and then has the _nerve_ to show sympathy by wagering a _deal_? The vision in his eyes is going red….going red and going hazy…going red and going hazy and going out.

He slowly looks up at Kakarot, sees the man looking down on him like he's too good for him. Like Vegeta is less than. Like he isn't the prince, isn't the rightful king. Like he's a mockery of a Saiyan.

He's going to permanently wipe that look from his face.

He rises to his feet and Vegeta doesn't even feel like himself anymore. Feels…more powerful. Like he's _really_ fighting for something here that Kakarot would ever understand. None of them would understand. He thought once upon a time ago that Kakarot _did_ , but that man is long gone. This man, this spitting image of Bardock, is his enemy.

Vegeta closes the gap and immediately hit Kakarot in the cheek with his fist. The theatrics are over, the games are over, the prize is yet to be won. So Vegeta doesn't give him time to react before he connects another punch…and another…and another. Soon his fists are moving to their own rhythm, to their own speed, slamming Kakarot with punch after punch, until his knuckles draw back bloody and raw from landing in his teeth.

"You call yourself a Saiyan!?" Kakarot's head bobbing backwards repeatedly is the only reply he gives, and yet Vegeta won't stop berating him…or hitting him. "You are a disgrace, scum to the Saiyan name! Giving me an option for redemption!? You are a fool! And it shall be your death!" Vegeta mimics Kakarot's move from earlier, punching him in the gut with a follow up elbow to the back, sending the man to the ground.

However, unlike Vegeta, Kakarot is taking his sweet time getting back up.

"Calling yourself the Great Oozaru!? As if you know what that means!?" He walks to where Kakarot is struggling on the ground, the red of his blood staining the waters below his body, and fists his hair through his fingers, forcing his head back. "The Great Oozaru means pride, means strength, means the true Saiyan way. All of which you have none of!" He plucks the man's body from the river as if he were a mere flower, his fingers tightened around Kakarot's hair probably painfully.

His face is swollen and red, his left eye swollen shut. He looks up to see the citizens crying, wailing about their battered king and the man who holds him. Pleading. Begging. Sobbing.

It falls on deaf ears.

He pushes Kakarot's body in front of him, showing him on full display. Kakarot groans in his hand and Vegeta roars out a bellowing laughter. "IS THIS YOUR KING!?" He screams, savoring the full beauty of this moment. That woman screams he is a monster. The royal army looks as if they want to kill him. But they see. They see that he is strongest. That he is best. That he deserves the crown.

That he has won.

He turns then, walking towards the edge of the waterfall, Kakarot's feet sliding against the rocks under the waters. Vegeta can't feel his own pain because he's too busy on an adrenaline kick. He brings Kakarot up to his face once more, wanting to swallow down this tasty moment one last time.

"W…why?" Kakarot coughs out, looking at Vegeta through his one good eye. "W…what was this f-for?"

He might as well entertain this, might as well give Kakarot something good to go out on. He leans in closely to his ear, growling the way a pup might, his lip curled over his fang in a smile. "Because, Kakarot, I _am_ the Great Oozaru. The one who can't be destroyed. Even though your father tried, even though he killed my father and tried to kill me, he failed. And I rose up from the ashes of the stars to become better than my father, better than your father. Better than _you._ And I will reclaim what belongs to me." He brings his face back to Kakarot's and inhales, getting a good look at the damage. Kakarot looks shocked, like the news has electrocuted him back to life, but Vegeta won't fall for this opening. There's only one way to end this.

"And now the debt is repaid."

oooOOOooo

It's as if time has stopped. It's as if Bulma has gotten the air ripped from her lungs.

There's…there's no way. There's no way Kakarot….this is a joke, right? Not him….not the man that she had seen win over and over and over again.

But…but if this is a joke….if this is a dream….why does she keep running back to this very visual?

"And now the debt is repaid."

Her eyes widen then, as if she has clairvoyance as to what he's going to do. "No….no….Kakarot!" She screams, her body wanting to lunge towards them. Wanting to stop this monster before he kills…before he takes away….Her king. Her brother. Her friend.

Someone pulls her back. She looks up and it's Piccolo, a Namekian member of the army. He's sadly shaking his head at her, as if he knows that it's too late. As if he knows….as if he knows…

Vegeta, this man who came from nowhere, this man who caused death and destruction across the galaxy, has her entire world in the palm of her hands. And with one last look at her and the people around her, he takes her world and throws it over the cliff, sending Kakarot to his….to his death.

Gravity pulls from underneath her as she falls to her knees, screaming loudly even though she can't hear herself.

Kakarot….no….what were they to do now? What was she to do? She….she couldn't do this without him. She couldn't….not with Vegeta….he…he was their king now….

With the sudden realization, she brings her head back up, catching the stiffened bodies of the army around her. Kale tries her best to be strong but Caulifla has a hand on her shoulder, knowing better. Fascha is trying to appear unaffected, but her lip trembles and the wood from her spear has splintered her skin, sending blood down her fingers. Cabba is the least resistant of them all, bawling his eyes out behind Caulifla, hoping no one will notice.

Her people…the people that she and Kakarot have protected, have united….she failed them. She let them down.

Raditz….Raditz and fucking Nappa. Her eyes search for them then, scanning the crown until she spots them far away from everyone else. Nappa is the epitome of ecstatic, watching Vegeta with such gusto it makes her nauseous. But Raditz… Raditz is a goddamned coward. Staring off into the distance as if he regrets his treachery. As if he's sad that his brother is gone.

He doesn't get the goddamned right.

"You….you fucking traitors!" She screams, rising to her feet and running to them, Piccolo unable to hold her back this time. She doesn't care if they're stronger than her, doesn't care if she knows that could crush her with a wink of an eye. She'll scratch their eyes out, if she has to. Make it so they never see again. "It's your fault! He's dead because of you!"

Nappa laughs her off and it infuriates her even more. That Vegeta guy had the nerve to ask _Kakarot_ if he was a true Saiyan?! He's more Saiyan then all of them! She opens her mouth to shout at him so.

"Hey! You! Grab that woman or I'll kill you after I kill her!" Vegeta is staring at her with his arms folded from where he stands, and Bulma doesn't know who he's talking to. He's staring at her like he's sizing her up, like he wants to rip her apart next. It makes her freeze in her steps, suddenly overwhelmed by his vicious aura. Was Vegeta really so different, as Kakarot had said? Back then, she wasn't allowed in the throne room, much less around the royals, so she didn't know the prince. Didn't know what he was like. But now she does. Now she knows that he's the devil.

She feels strong hands wrapping her arms together and it's Fasha when she turns around. The Saiyan woman appears to be apologetic, even nods subtly to tell Bulma that she has no choice. That all of them now, from now on, have no choice. It's a pill Bulma has a hard time swallowing, but one that she knows she has to. She turns back to Nappa, who's looking at her like he wants to stomp her to death, and Raditz, who still is being a goddamned coward. Finally she turns to Vegeta, who is walking directly towards her and Fasha.

"Woman," he says, his voice unreasonably cool, "From now on, you work directly under me. Refuse and you die, it's that simple." He speaks his words and walks past them then, as if they don't exist. As if they don't matter.

Bulma knows…knows that she can't struggle. She doesn't want to leave this world until she's absolutely sure she can't bring Kakarot back in it. She has to…she can't let Planet Vegeta fold in on itself like this. And especially not under the hand of its current ruler.

"Why?" She whispers, her heart breaking at knowing she is echoing Kakarot's last words. "Why are you doing this to us? We just want to live in peace."

"Because," he stops in his tracks, not even bothering to turn around to her, "The Saiyans need a true leader, not some wimp pushing what isn't natural." He changes his mind and turns to them, an evil grin replacing his mouth, sending goosebumps down Bulma's neck. "I'm your king now, woman,- all of you. We are moving to a new era, to a new legacy. After my ritual to become the Great Oozaru, I _will_ show all of you what it means to be a Saiyan, so I suggest you prepare yourselves. And to clear up any confusion as to why or how, I think I'll leave it to the royal decree and say this."

Bulma watches this monster stare down to her face, gobbling her up greedily as if she's the next to go. As if he already knows she'll give him a hard time.

He's absolutely right.

" _R'Shaorkah."_

oooOOOooo

 _ **A/N:**_

 _ **Whooo I didn't mean to make this so long lol but I got caught up. Thank you guys for your feedback and I hope you like this one too (and excuse any mistakes because I am my own beta-er). As always, please leave a review! I love getting them, they make my day like no other thing.**_

 _ **Until next time, guys!**_


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